The lingering golden dust from Silas's projection drifted slowly toward the floorboards, but before the glowing particles could even touch the wood, they flared with a sudden, blinding intensity.
A massive shockwave of pure, silent energy pulsed outward from the center of the cabin. It swept through the colossal ghost ship, causing the lavish velvet rugs, the floating lanterns, and the heavy iron walls to warp and dissolve like a mirage baking under a desert sun.
Iron-Scale instinctively raised a clawed arm to shield his eyes, while Gulag braced her heavy legs against the shifting reality of the deck. The wooden floor beneath them vanished entirely in a flash of golden light, dropping the boarding party a few feet through the empty air until their boots slammed hard against the solid, familiar star-iron grating of their own Vanguard flagship.
